


all you do is sit an' stare

by harperuth



Series: i met you in the summer [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Praise Kink, Touch-Starved, hello i've just learned about these girls and i'm losing it, there's also some pyra magna/stormclash in there, with some hinted stormclash/jumpstream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: Pyra grinned and let her scamper off, turning her attention to Optimus. She ran a servo over his helm, clasping the back of his neck lightly, “Good work keeping out of the way. You may not be so hopeless yet.”Optimus completely locked up under her touch, staring at her with wide optics and open mouth. Pyra’s smile wilted a bit and she shook him lightly before letting go, “Get some fuel in you. That goes for everyone!”
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Pyra Magna
Series: i met you in the summer [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828810
Comments: 24
Kudos: 58





	all you do is sit an' stare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenNoPlot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNoPlot/gifts).



> as always, take a grain of salt: i dunno what canon is, so this probably doesn't fit in it. in my heart pyra magna is bigger than optimus, i don't know nor care what the truth is.
> 
> for the prompt 'praise kink' with pyra magna/optimus
> 
> title is from 'do you wanna touch me (oh yeah)' by joan jett and the blackhearts

In retrospect, Pyra was absolutely certain she wouldn’t have noticed it, had Optimus not reacted the way he did.

(“That’s the _Prime_ , Commander” Skyburst whispered in her memory files, “You can’t just call him... _that_.”

“I’ll call him Prime when I feel he’s earned the title,” Pyra hadn’t bothered with a whisper, her voice carrying to where _Optimus_ could hear her.)

“Much better reactions today,” Pyra cradled Dust Up’s elbow between her servos, rubbing it down and running a quick check on her tensile materials. The gestalt programming was still somewhat of a mystery, but they’d all found that aches settled worse in their corresponding frame parts, “That training program has been working.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dust Up put up a show of a fight, but never tore her arm away, “I’m a regular Wrecker.”

“Better than,” Pyra grinned and let her scamper off, turning her attention to Optimus. She ran a servo over his helm, clasping the back of his neck lightly, “Good work keeping out of the way. You may not be so hopeless yet.”

Optimus completely locked up under her touch, staring at her with wide optics and open mouth. Pyra’s smile wilted a bit and she shook him lightly before letting go, “Get some fuel in you. That goes for everyone!”

 _Strange_ , Pyra thought, tossing another look at Optimus over her shoulder while she corralled her crew back to camp. He hadn’t moved a digit. Then Rust Dust went aft over dispenser into Stormclash’s back and the ensuing fight was more than enough to shake any further thought from her processor.

\- - -

“Shh, it’s alright,” Pyra stroked her servo down Skyburst’s back, keeping her touch firm but not trapping, “Rusty’s alright, you’re alright.”

Skyburst heaved another sob into her neck, solvent dripping into her cabling and down below her chestplate. It itched. Pyra ignored it, “You did so well today. You kept it together and helped us get help. You made sure Rusty stayed awake until the medic arrived. You did so good.”

Skyburst curled up tighter, somehow fitting her whole frame into Pyra’s lap. Pyra heard a small shuffle and flicked her optics up to Optimus hesitating in the doorway. She hugged Skyburst tighter, mouthing _go away_.

“Shh, there you go,” She kept her voice low for Skyburst even while staring daggers at Optimus’s evidently frozen frame, “You’re good, bit. Thank you for coming to find me when you felt bad; that’s very good. Thank you, bit.”

Skyburst shuddered but finally seemed to have plumbed the depths of her solvent reserves, cries petering off with her tears. Pyra pressed a kiss to the top of her helm, still glaring fiercely at Optimus. This was _her_ team. Skyburst had come to _her_ for comfort.

 _Who’s the better leader now?_ She thought viciously, when Optimus finally turned and scurried away.

\- - -

“Well, fuck,” Pyra scratched at her chest seam. If there was anything she had to give Cybertronians credit for, it was the utterly satisfying vocabulary of human filth. She rounded the table once more, peering down at the plans, “That’s me spent. I’ve got no clue.”

“When do you ever,” Stormclash muttered, a little meanly. Jumpstream punched her in the shoulder, “Hey!”

“Last quartex I knew where the good engex was,” Pyra mused, rubbing a servo roughly across Stormclash’s helm. She turned and grabbed Jumpstream’s chin, “Don’t hit your team, sweet.”

Stormclash groaned, “Don’t make it sound _exciting_. You found my stash and _threw it away_.”

“Because I knew where it was,” Pyra dropped a kiss on Jumpstream’s forehelm.

She felt optics burning into her, and turned to catch Optimus’s stare where it was focused on her digits gripping Jumpstream. As soon as he was caught, his plating shuffled and he looked away, but there was something in his face that Pyra couldn’t _quite_ qualify.

Hm.

\- - -

“Oh, oh _Primus_ , yes— That’s—!” Stormclash thrashed in her grip, sending ripples out through the oil pool. It wasn’t often they got leave enough to head back into a city, and they tended to make the most of it.

Pyra hummed happily, digits curling around Stormclash’s hips to hold her steady. Stormclash shrieked as the vibration hit her node. Pyra pulled back and nosed at her mesh, inhaling the scent of her before sliding her glossa into Stormclash’s valve once more.

“Please,” Stormclash arched her back, and Pyra lifted her enough that her head remained above the oil. Beside them, Jumpstream’s optics burned, “Please, please, please, oh, I’m so close, _please_ —”

“How do you ask?” Jumpstream’s voice was even, harmonics perfectly measured. It was enough to send a zing of charge through even Pyra, nevermind Stormclash, who had bowed herself back so far that Pyra was forced to lift her completely out of the bath.

“Please,” Stormclash whined, all leverage gone now that she was aloft, held only by Pyra’s servos, “Please _ma’am_.”

Pyra hummed again, plunging her glossa as deep as it would go and angling her nasal ridge to rub against Stormclash’s node. Stormclash shook in her grip, a screech ripped from her vocalizer. Jumpstream was behind her in a moment, cradling her as Pyra set her down, keeping her head above the oil.

“Thank you,” Jumpstream smiled, stroking at Stormclash’s abdominal plating.

“Of course,” Pyra relaxed back into the low seat of the oil pool, spreading her arms across the edge.

“Say thank you,” Jumpstream nuzzled at Stormclash’s helm, pushing her up enough for Pyra to see her optics. They were a little fuzzy, but they stayed straight.

“Thanks Commander,” Stormclash slurred.

“Listen to Jumper,” Pyra said sternly as she was able, but the heat of the oil suffused with the heady feeling of taking care, and she knew she was more than a bit stretched out and soft. Jumpstream smiled again, but it was softer. She waved before flashing away, Stormclash with her.

Pyra slouched further down into the pool, letting her head fall back to study the art on the ceiling, “I know you’re there. You can come out.”

Pedesteps softer than she would have guessed rang through the empty bathhouse. Pyra grinned at nothing. Optimus audibly cycled his intake, “I didn’t want to intrude.”

“I don’t think Stormclash would have minded,” Pyra picked her helm up and looked at him. Optimus dithered at the edge of the pool, “She likes fucking with authority.”

“I—” Optimus’s face flushed at her words. Pyra’s grin widened. She was still riding the wave of taking care of what was hers, and something about Optimus, his strange reaction to touch, his constantly staring optics, was warming her core.

“Get in,” Pyra waved a servo at the pool. There was plenty of room; it had sheltered every member of her team earlier, she and Optimus would be no chore. Optimus slid in carefully, biting back a groan.

He was well within her arm’s reach.

Pyra’s helm fell back again, “You’ve been watching me.”

“I—” Optimus cut himself off from what was clearly about to be a lie. The oil sloshed softly, “It is not intentional.”

“Hmm,” Pyra hummed, “What is it then?”

“You touch them,” Optimus sounded confused, frustrated. Pyra rolled her helm over to look at him and he was holding himself as small as he seemed able, “They touch you?”

“My team?” Pyra asked, confusion lacing through her as well, “Of course I do. They do. I’m their commander.”

“But—” Optimus visibly bit his glossa. Pyra sat up, then stood, making her way to stand over Optimus, gripping his chin until it no longer tensed.

“You led an entire army,” Pyra didn’t question, optics searching Optimus’s face, “And they never once came to you for comfort? Were you that terrible a leader?”

Optimus _crumpled_ , every part of him, but his face stayed in Pyra’s gentlest grasp, optics on her, “I don’t know.”

“Did they know they were allowed?” Pyra studied him intently, as a slow heat suffused her frame. _Fix, Gestalt Leader, fix_ , her mind whispered and oh. Apparently the coding had taken Optimus as her’s. Huh.

“ _I_ didn’t know,” Optimus blurted out, and finally averted his optics. His plating shifted helter skelter. Prya slid her servo up to cup his cheek.

“Oh Optimus,” Pyra leaned down and nuzzled his other cheek, “Did no one comfort _you_ either? It goes both ways, you know? We all take care of each other.”

Optimus’s vents hitched. Pyra took the answer for what it was, “Come here.”

She kept her servo on Optimus’s face, towing him along until she was seated once more with him astride her lap. On his knees, it put them just barely at optic level. Pyra dropped both servos to rub at his thighs under the oil, running her digits through seams and under plating to clean his cables, “That’s alright. I can take care of you. You’ve been doing very well with us lately, you’ve earned it.”

A shiver wracked through Optimus’s frame, _hard._ Pyra ducked down to press her face to his intake, “Is that what you like? Will that make you feel good? You deserve to feel good.”

Optimus moaned, a small, absolutely lovely sound. The soft heat of taking care began to redirect into a blaze behind her panel. Pyra kept up her grooming, shifting her servos up to Optimus’s back, “That’s right, just relax. I saw that you’d been helping Rust Dust with her gyro exercises the other day. Thank you for that, it was very kind and helpful.”

Optimus cried out again, still so quiet. Pyra kissed his intake and pulled back, wanting to see his face. His optics were incredibly round, staring at her. She rubbed at more seams, up Optimus’s back and shoulders, around to his chest. She sunk a servo up under his chest plate, “I see how hard you’re working to help, Optimus. It’s appreciated, don’t think it isn’t. We all know how good you are.”

Optimus’s mouth worked around words that weren’t escaping his vocalizer. Pyra trailed her servos down his abdominal plating, working at all the dust that tended to gather between the small plates there, “So good, so very good. A good mech.”

Optimus’s panel was gone, when she worked her way lower. She grinned, “Did you want something? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

She sunk two digits into Optimus’s bared valve, the hot oil they were in feeling nearly tepid in comparison. She thrust them shallowly, watching Optimus’s face. His intake cycled several times before he croaked, “I want you to feel good too.”

Pyra smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “Thank you, Optimus. For telling me what you wanted, and for being such a good and generous mech.”

Optimus’s valve clenched around her digits. Pyra transformed her panel away, spike rising up between them. She almost didn’t have time to remove her digits before Optimus was grasping the base of her spike and sinking down on it.

“Careful,” She admonished, fans clicking on even so. She sat back, servos resting lightly on Optimus’s aft while he shuddered, valve clenching tightly around her, “That’s it. So good, Optimus.”

Optimus moaned, hips twitching forward. Pyra tightened her grip, coaxing him into a slow grind. She didn’t bother to hide her pleasure, not when Optimus so clearly wanted it from her, “Oh that’s— You feel so tight and hot. So good, around me.”

Optimus moved a little faster, vents starting to heave. Pyra squeezed his aft, “You’re going to make me overload. Would you like that?”

“Please,” Optimus panted, hip rolling. He tried to lift up a few times, but Pyra held him close. She preferred a grind to a thrust, and heat was suffusing her circuitry, the earlier moments with Stormclash still lingering and driving her higher.

Pyra kept one hand on Optimus’s aft, bringing the other around to press a digit to his node. Optimus practically jack-knifed at the sensation. Pyra rumbled, “That’s it. Let yourself feel good. You’re good, Optimus, you deserve to feel good.”

Pyra felt herself rushing towards overload. Optimus’s valve clenched in time with her pressure on his node. Pyra mouthed around his audial, then whispered, “Overload for me, _Prime_.”

Optimus seized, valve a steel trap. Pyra groaned at the pressure, just enough to tip her over. Heat rolled through her as Optimus shook above her, the gestalt coding crashing into her interface protocols and singing a job well done.

Pyra fell backwards against the lip of the pool, tugging Optimus down to lay across her chest while he still shivered. Her spike was still in his valve. She ran a servo down his back, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm, “Very good.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so unbelievably gay for victorion now
> 
> i'm taking summer heat prompts on twitter [@robopunkcfb](https://twitter.com/robopunkcfb)


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